By any other name
by deletrear
Summary: Rosalie Hale moves to Forks to escape the nightmares of New York city, and would like to know why people keep laughing when she tells them that.
1. Chapter 1

By any other name

[1]

* * *

Rosalie Hale watched the cigarette burn to its filter without taking a drag. It was an outrageous waste of nicotine, but she wasn't smoking to cater an addiction. It was a distraction although not a very good one and much too expensive besides. She desperately needed better hobbies.

She dropped her cigarette and crushed it beneath her heel. From her purse, she produced some gum to chew on and perfume. It wouldn't mask the smell well, or at all, but it was the thought that counted.

Her mother wouldn't touch the topic if Rosalie gave the slightest hint that it wasn't her business. Jean-Claude Ellena's _Hermès Hermessence Brin de Reglisse_ was the hefty two-hundred dollar hint.

Rosalie went to the front of the house where her mother, Laila, was fussing with the boot of their car. Probably trying to magic Rosalie's packed suitcase into the miniscule space.

"Rose, is that you?"

She must have heard her footsteps. "Yeah. Where's Hank?"

"Your step-father," Laila emphasized pointedly, "is locking everything up inside. Can you help me with this? You have so many clothes!"

And more stuffed into her closet. Rosalie sniffed as she stood beside Laila, the duo struggling to maneuver the suitcase on an angle that would allow it to slide in. It took some encouragement from Rosalie's shoulder before their problem was solved. Laila sighed tiredly, wiping sweat from her forehead with a handkerchief.

"Maybe we need a bigger car," Laila mused. Her nose wrinkled as she caught a whiff of the tobacco on Rosalie's clothes, but predictably she didn't mention it. "All ready? Are you taking carry-on luggage?"

Rosalie lifted the purse on her shoulder. "Right here, mom."

"Have you eaten?"

"Some toast."

"And water, did you drink some water?"

"I had coffee this morning."

Laila pursed her lips. "Well, that will have to do. Your father knows when you'll land, yes? You emailed him?"

Her mother was never usually so… neurotic. Ever since January, she'd hated letting Rosalie out of her sight. It killed her to let her only child fly across the country without her supervision, but unless she wanted to waste three hundred bucks to visit Washington as well, there wasn't much to be done. She'd have to deal with it.

"Mom," Rosalie placed her hand on Laila's shoulder. The woman shuddered at the contact, her own hand hovering around Rosalie's wrist. Close, waiting for permission that wasn't coming. "I'll call when I land."

"You'd better," Laila said, sniffling. They stood there for a long moment; Rosalie found it comforting, even if the nearness was steadily chipping at her patience. As if she knew that, Laila pulled away, wiped her face, and huffed impatiently. "Where is Hank? How long could it take to make sure everything is turned off! Rose, wait in the car. I'm going to find him before he makes us late for your flight."

Laila stormed towards their house, affronted in ways only middle-class suburban women were capable of. Her yelling could be heard from the driveway, as well as Hank's excuses, smothered by his laughter as they were.

Rosalie listened wistfully. Perhaps she would miss this.

Before she could remind herself of why she needed to leave, she got into the backseat of the car and pulled out her music player. It was counterproductive to make herself nauseous prior to travel. She put in her earphones and turned up the volume until she could no longer think around the clattering noise of symbols and electric guitars.

* * *

Nathan Hale waited outside the airport, leaning on the side of a standard police cruiser. Painted on the side were the words _FORKS POLICE_ , chipped from neglect but not worn in the way of cars that were actually used. She supposed tiny Forks didn't see much action.

He didn't smile when he saw her. Rosalie inherited his poker face. The only way to tell her was glad was the slack in his blond beard. "Hey, sweetie."

Rosalie's shoulders tightened. "Don't call me that," She told him without pause, throwing her suitcase into the front seat. Nathan sat behind the wheel silently. He paused when Rosalie took the back seat.

"Don't wanna sit next to your old man?" He asked.

Rosalie worked her jaw. "Mom didn't tell you?"

"She told me some things."

"Then I'm not explaining it to you again,"

Nathan clicked his tongue. "Gotcha." He put the car into gear and pulled them out of the waiting bay. He couldn't quite mask the sarcasm, nor the hurt; Rosalie couldn't find it in herself to care. There was no guilt. The drive to his house was in reluctant silence. Whenever Nathan tried to talk, he found his efforts thwarted by Rosalie's frosted replies, until eventually he ran out of patience.

Pulling into the driveway of his two-story house was a relief beyond words. Rosalie grabbed her suitcase and leapt from the car. Nathan followed hastily. "Your room—"

"I remember where it is," She cut him off. The door was unlocked — poor security for the Sheriff — and she climbed the stairs two at a time. Her room was in the back corner. It looked exactly as she'd left it, pink enough to burn her eyes. At least her father removed the princess memorabilia.

She was checking the door handle as Nathan made it upstairs. He seemed slightly out of breath. "I need a lock," She told him immediately. When he simply stared, she repeated herself, adding, "I won't be able to sleep unless I have one."

He put his hands on his hips and sighed. "Yeah, I hear you. Now?"

"As soon as possible." She said, meaning: _Yes, now_.

Nathan nodded. "We'll stop by the store. We can buy more stuff for your room as well. I would've spruced it up myself if I knew what you were interested in. Still wanna be an actress?"

"No."

He didn't seemed surprised. "Okay, figured. I have some friends dropping by to say hello. The Clearwaters, you remember them? You and Leah used to be friends."

Rosalie remembered. Her parents divorced when she was four, but she made biannual visits home until she was eight. Every time she was in Forks, she stopped by the Clearwater home. Harry Clearwater used to let her watch whenever his truck needed tinkering. His daughter, Leah, was her best friend.

"The truck man," Rosalie mused. Nathan's face brightened at the first sign of softness she'd shown all day. "When will they get here?"

"An hour?"

"Enough time to go to the store."

"Sure," Nathan said. He didn't seem as tense. Perhaps he saw her reaction to the Clearwaters as an olive branch. "Hey, you have your license, right? Wanna drive us?"

* * *

The Clearwater's arrived as Rosalie was installing her brand new lock. She heard Nathan telling them all what she was up to and hand out cups of tea and coffee. Rosalie wiped her sweat away using her collar, finishing up on the screws.

She heard someone coming up the stairs and flicked her eyes up: at the top was a girl her age wearing a blue tank top and shorts. Leah Clearwater's face was sharp, her short hairstyle complimenting the natural predatory angles of it. Her smirk alone was a dare. Even as children, it had taunted Rosalie. Most of their competitions started because Rosalie hadn't liked the look in Leah's eyes.

The look was somewhat dulled, smothered by something much more flinty. Rosalie recognized it instantly.

Leah raised her eyebrow and forgoed a greeting. "You're wearing makeup?"

"Hi Lee," replied Rosalie. "Long time no see."

Leah rolled her eyes, unbothered by the attitude. She came over to crouch beside Rosalie, squinting at the lock. "I thought you didn't like makeup."

"I was seven. The only thing I liked on my face was mud and grease."

"And oil. You loved oil," Leah helpfully added. Rosalie sighed through her nose. Her childhood friend turned to her with a wolfish grin. "You look like shit, Rosie. If mom sees you she won't be able to stop herself from feeding you."

Rosalie lied easily. "New diet. I'm trying to fit into better clothes. I'm happy it's working."

"You're all skin and bone: I'd say whatever you're doing is exceeding expectations." It was said teasingly, yet Leah didn't seem to take offense when Rosalie barely cracked a smile. "You are here to stay, right?"

"Until graduation at least."

"Homeschool or high school?"

Rosalie's lips thinned. "High school." She'd fought with her mom for weeks for that much. "Are you still on the reservation?"

"No other place to go," said Leah. She wasn't upset. Granted, she didn't have any reason to be. The reservation was perfect for the children of her tribe, offering rich education in academia and the personal history of their people. Leah watched quietly as Rosalie tightened the last screw, stayed like that as Rosalie tested it, then said: "You okay?"

Rosalie didn't respond.

Quietly, Leah said, "Your dad told us."

Anger boiled in Rosalie's stomach. She narrowed her eyes at the other girl, who shrugged like she understood Nathan had no right but couldn't exactly _un_ hear the information. "How much do you know?" Her voice was like ice.

"Whatever he knows. Do you really wanna hash it out?"

No, Rosalie didn't. That was why she was in this pathetic rainy town — so she didn't have to 'hash it out', so she could walk down the streets and not be stared after by the pitying or accusing eyes of people who didn't have a clue what she went through. Nathan was doing his best to make that into an unattainable dream.

Rosalie slammed her door. Neither girl flinched, which she was slightly disappointed by. "I'm doing great."

"If you say so."

"I say so."

"Alright, jeez, prissy. Hurry up downstairs, mom and dad are excited to see you. Nathan has been telling them how pretty you've gotten, you know, they have high expectations," Leah pitched her voice innocently. "They are going to be _so_ disappointed."

The blonde snorted. Two sides of her brain warred with each other. It was going to be rough, walking into a room knowing that everyone there _knew_ : it would poke at her constantly until it grew to be unbearably suffocating and she ended up escaping. On the other hand, she missed Harry and Sue. They were always good to her. Rosalie would not forgive herself if she didn't at least say hello.

Leah relaxed now that she was victorious. There was still something tough in her eyes that Rosalie couldn't help being curious about, but she wasn't going to pry. It ultimately didn't matter: Leah's business was hers.

And so, Rosalie dogged Leah down the stairway. Harry and Sue at with their backs to her, familiar even though she saw gray hairs now. Their voices, too, filled her with nostalgia. Calm and low and welcoming. It had been so long.

"Found her!" Leah announced, stuffing her hands in her pockets. She flopped on the sofa beside a smaller teenage boy — her younger brother, Seth, who flipped around like an enthusiastic puppy and yelled, "Rosie!"

"Rosalie!" Harry sounded exactly like his son. Sue leapt to her feet and walked towards Rosalie with her arms wide open. The girl ground her teeth as she accepted the hug. It was warm, sure, but restricting. Too claustrophobic.

She carefully didn't push Sue away. Luckily, the hug didn't go on for long, and Sue stepped back, beaming. The expression was flattering on her: it seemed Sue Clearwater was as handsome as ever.

"Aren't you just beautiful?" Sue murmured approvingly. "And so _tall._ You could be a model, why wear high heels when you are already taller than everyone here?"

"To kick people, mostly," Rosalie said wryly. Sue harrumphed jokingly while her husband laughed. "Hi, Sue. It's good to see you."

"Isn't it? You know, I think you have to come over for dinner. You're too skinny."

Rosalie looked over Sue's shoulder where Leah was smirking. _Told ya_ , she mouthed. "Definitely."

"Oh, and Harry brought over something for you! Nathan, can we — " Nathan grinned, which Sue excitedly took for permission. Rosalie checked everyone's expression for a hint of what the hell was going on: it was entirely smugness and conspiratory glances. Cool, so that told her absolutely nothing.

Harry heaved onto his feet. "It's out the front."

Rosalie frowned. "What is it?"

"It's a surprise," said Seth. "Do you like surprises?"

Her silence indicated _no_. Leah groaned much louder than necessary. "Lighten up, princess! Just go outside!"

"Shut up," Rosalie told her before following Sue and Harry to the door. She heard everyone else getting up as well. Were they expecting some kind of reaction from her? Rosalie resisted the urge to fidget, feeling like ants were crawling on her skin. She hated walking into situations she didn't have references for.

But when they all ended up on the porch, Harry went towards one of the three trucks. Nathan's cruiser, one white sudan, and one rust-bucket of a pickup truck. Copper red and clinging to vestiges of life.

When Harry smacked the hood of the truck Rosalie half-expected it to crumble into dust. "This old girl here is Claudine. You still into fixing cars, Rosalie?"

Realization dawned several seconds too late. Holy shit. "That's _mine_?" Rosalie gasped, running to the truck. Sue and Seth started laughing as she stroked the left door. It didn't even have a window. "What the — Harry?!"

"A friend gave her to me to fix when she broke down. It's been waiting for me to have enough free time, but when your dad told me you were moving over, I knew you would get more outta the experience than an old fella like me. You up to the challenge?"

Rosalie draped herself over the hood. "Can I start her up?"

"I don't think she can," Harry huffed. Rosalie bit her lip to stop the squeal. It was a _lot_ to work with. She couldn't remember being this excited in months. For the first time moving back in with her dad didn't have a noose hiding in the shadows. Laila let her go to car shows and stop by the local mechanic to watch, but it was never a skill Rosalie was allowed to cultivate. Rosalie was encouraged to favor her more ladylike interests. Makeup and dressing up were things that interested Rosalie, sure, but neither hobbies held a candle to engineering.

Rosalie straightened, keeping one loving hand on the truck. "You might need to help me, Harry."

"Call if you're stuck," He told her warmly. "Leah and Seth have no interest. It's a relief for one of my kids to get into the profession."

Rosalie stopped breathing.

"Come on, Harry, stop stealing my kid," Nathan joked. "She only just moved in and you're making moves?"

"I'd love another sister."

Leah smacked her brother around the back of his head, hissing something scathing.

Harry smiled at Rosalie when he caught her bewildered stare. All these years apart and he considered her family? Rosalie was stunned by how much it meant to hear it. Not only that, but to be standing in front of proof. However the relationship between her and Nathan developed, it was relieving to know Harry was on her side, too.

Rosalie looked at her feet, choked up and hating it. "Thank you."

Harry put his hand on the hood close to hers. He tapped his fingers so she could feel the vibration across the metal. It was fall in Forks but Harry's proximity and the sincerity of his actions seemed to burn away at the chill.

"It is good to have you home, Rosie."

The words were not a death sentence.

* * *

Notes:

Obviously this is an AU so don't call the OOC police. Period typical attitudes have been flipped and the backstories are slightly different. Yay.


	2. Chapter 2

By any other name

[2]

* * *

Rosalie spent all night working on the truck. Really, it was more of an initial assessment ro figure out what steps needed to be taken in order to resurrect the vehicle. After school she would buy the essential parts she could afford or find somewhere to barter. It was something to look forward to if today sucked.

Over breakfast Nathan offered to drop her to school. Rosalie told him not to bother: she wasn't showing up in a police car, no matter how frustrating it would be to catch the bus.

When said cesspool rolled up outside their door and honked, Nathan spoke to her over his newspaper. "Have a good day. Listen to your teachers. Make friends, and remember to be better, not bitter."

Rosalie gave her father the stink eye, shouldering her bag. "I can do and excel at both."

The door slammed on his exasperated reply. The bus was as horrible as she thought. The other students on board failed to tame their curiosity (assuming they tried). Rosalie felt eyes on her the entire trip. _I will gut you if you don't cut it out!_ She screamed at the top of her mental lungs.

The best part was leaving, which Rosalie did with gusto. She ignored the whispers on her tail. It couldn't be anything she wasn't used to.

One stop at administration later, Rosalie was in possession of her schedule, a map, the combination to her locker, and an escort. The last one was not given to her: the boy, Eric, was from the newspaper, and had tagged along the second he laid eyes on her.

"Rosalie Hale, right? The new girl?"

He went to put his arm around her. Rosalie froze his actions with a look. "Don't touch me."

His hands went in the air theatrically. "Gotcha, no touching! Hey, do you mind if I do a feature on you for the school newspaper? You're the first interesting thing to happen all year."

"Sure, I guess."

"Wow, really? That's great. Um, what is your locker number? I can show you the way and once you've put everything away, I can ask you some questions."

Rosalie told him her locker number. Eric grinned. "You're next to the auditorium, nice. Near my friend, Mike. It's not too far from here."

"Great," Rosalie said with zero inflection. Eric did not appear to notice. The conversation to her locker was stilted. For an aspiring journalist, Eric wasn't observant enough to tell when someone wasn't interested. Rosalie was relieved when the bell rang, interrupting his tale about — actually, she hadn't been listening.

Eric's face dropped. "Oh, crap. Form. Do you — recess?"

"Do I recess?"

He blushed. "Recess. Find me, I'll ask the questions then. More time anyway, right?"

Rosalie gathered her textbooks up. "Goodbye, Eric."

"Ha, you said my name. Laters, Rosalie!"

She couldn't walk away fast enough. Jesus. With the assistance of her map and very helpful students throughout the day, Rosalie was not late to any of her classes. Her literature teacher was stern and her drama teacher was loud, yet both were kind so Rosalie had no complaints.

Recess finally arrived to pop the bubble of restless tension creeping up on the student body. Rosalie was stopped no less than six times in the corridor, the sheltered teenagers of this school treating her like a shiny new toy. The novelty of the experience grew tiring quickly. Rosalie hated little more than being treated like an object.

Eric was in the cafeteria, atop one of the tables. There were two others: a boy sitting backwards on his chair and two girls who couldn't look more different if they tried. Nerd and jock solidarity, Rosalie supposed.

"Rosalie!"

That was Eric, waving at her like she couldn't find him by sound alone. "Over here!"

 _Let's get this over with,_ thought Rosalie. She took her tray to the group and sat next to the girl wearing glasses. "Hello," she greeted quietly. Rosalie nodded back.

"Guys, this is Rose."

"Rosalie," She corrected. "Hi."

"Jessica," introduced the pretty one. "That's Mike—"

"Hey there," The jock said lowly, wiggling his eyebrows.

"—and she's Angela," Jessica pointed at Rosalie's seatmate, who twinkled her fingers but didn't greet her twice. "So, new girl! How do you like Forks?"

Eric spluttered indignantly. "Hey, _I'm_ asking the questions here!" He turned to her and smiled winningly. "How do you like Forks, Rosalie?"

"That's literally what I said."

"Yeah, but it means more when I say it," said Eric. Angela pulled a notepad and pen from her bag to write down Rosalie's much anticipated response.

It turned out to be: "I like it so far." Not much, yet Angela seemed happy with _anything._ How dry was their newspaper, exactly.

"And the people?" Eric pressed. Jessica elbowed him. "What? I wanna know if Rosalie here is enjoying the community!"

"People are friendly."

"Hear that? We're _friendly_."

Angela sighed when the two began bickering. "Um, can I ask why you moved here?"

Rosalie poked her pasta. What was that? Not mac and cheese. "I'm from New York if that's interesting enough."

Angela paused. "Okay… well, your dad is the Sheriff, isn't he? Is he strict?"

"As much as any parent. He's probably less strict, actually, just because he's Sheriff."

Angela chuckled, writing it down. "I guess that makes sense in some roundabout way. Clubs? Interested in joining any?"

"Not really. I like baseball."

"Mysterious, huh?" Spoke Mike for the first time. "Is that a New York thing or just you?"

"Both."

"You're allowed your secrets," Angela said kindly, followed by Jessica's ominous, " _for now_."

"Jess, oh my god!"

Jessica waved her friend away. She leaned forward on her elbows, smirking, "Hush. I'm not hurting her. Besides, I'm going to ask what everyone wants to know. Are you single? Have some guy waiting for you in the big city? What's the situation?"

Angela muttered another reproach, overshadowed by the subtle way Eric and Mike stood at attention. Rosalie narrowed her eyes at them. "I am not available."

Jessica looked overjoyed. "You have a boyfriend?"

"Just not interested."

"And the mystery continues!" Jessica cheered, leaning back on the bench. She was oddly triumphant about it: Rosalie dryly guessed she was crushing on one of the boys and was happy Rosalie wasn't sizing up to be competition.

Angela huffed. Eric smiled apologetically at her. "Alright, serious time. The baseball thing — did you play it in New York?"

"I was captain of the team."

"Oh!" Angela gasped. "You can join the team here!"

"Maybe," Rosalie said noncommittally. Baseball was a New York thing, and that city was behind her. The past was not supposed to be grandly invited into the present. "Any more questions?"

"Who is your ideal type in this r —"

Jessica spoke over Mike: "Opinion on shopping?"

"I like it."

Jessica gave Rosalie her first real smile since she sat down. "Oooh, you can definitely stay, Miss Hale."

Rosalie hadn't been waiting for permission. She took a bite out of her pasta, cringed, then put down her spork. "Thanks," She drawled.

Dismissed, the others started talking about how their classes had been. Smartly, no one attempted to tease conversation out of her. Rosalie picked at her fries, doused in ketchup, and wished for her appetite back if only so she had some way to occupy her time.

The back of her neck prickled. Someone was staring, and it wasn't anyone at her table.

Rosalie snapped her head up and browsed the cafeteria. Mostly everyone was busy doing their own thing, their curiosity over her put aside in favor of eating. So who was looking hard enough that Rosalie was getting paranoid? By the time the bell for class rang, she hadn't solved it.

* * *

Biology started with the class already full.

Rosalie would remember that science rooms were on the opposite side of the cafeteria, that was for sure.

"Take any open seat," said the teacher as if there was more than one.

It was towards the front. The girl already there was — odd. Unblemished, pale as moonlight, with lush brown hair that fell in impeccable waves over her shoulders. People compared Rosalie's hair to a waterfall of gold before, but never before had that frustrating phrase rang so true. If it applied to anyone, it was this strange girl and her lovingly chiselled bone structure. God, her cheekbones. It was unreal.

She looked up, showcasing brown eyes so dark they looked black. Her lips were almost blue. Rosalie looked closer and realized, unnerved, that this person did not have much color to her at all. She was poured water over a painting that hadn't finished drying, leaving behind suggestions of a palette against stark, stark white. Unfinished.

Then the teacher put his hand on Rosalie's shoulder, and she almost took his arm off. He ignored her jump because people who didn't have reason to do it themselves weren't aware of it in others. "Go on. Take a seat."

Her back tense, Rosalie sat beside the unnatural girl. She tried not to look, then ended up sneaking glances anyway.

Once the lecture started, the brunette leaned in. "I don't believe I've introduced myself. I'm Bella Cullen. You are?"

Rosalie raised her eyebrow. "What, like you don't know?"

"I thought it would be polite to ask," said Bella wryly.

There wasn't many replies to that. Rosalie picked the one least likely to end in an argument, just to try it out. "Rosalie."

"That's a nice name. French?"

"Seems to be."

"Do you speak the language?"

Rosalie sent her classmate an incredulous look. "Seriously? Do _you_ speak Italian, Bella?"

" _Sì, anche se non mi sono allenato da tempo._ " It flowed off her tongue like whispered poetry. Hands clenched around Rosalie's gut, compressing, furious. Bella stared patiently. "It's okay if you don't," She began.

Rosalie cut her off. "Yes, obviously. You're Italian, then."

"I was born in Arizona," Bella said, mouth quirking like this was some kind of funny to her. She was so white that it could've been the lead up to a joke. Or the punchline. "I just enjoy the language. Do you disagree?"

… Was she being made fun of?

"Stop talking to me," Rosalie said stonily. Bella blinked. It was impossibly regal on her. Rosalie had an itching feeling that Bella could make burping appear dignified. "We're in class. I need to listen."

Bella dipped her head in apology, which was all sorts of strange. "Of course. I didn't mean to disturb you."

"Then cut it out," Rosalie muttered. Bella tilted her head curiously, managing to keep quiet the entire time their teacher talked about cell mitosis. Rosalie wished she could say she was able to focus, but even with her lips glued shut Bella attracted attention. There was a magnetism about her that twisted Rosalie's stomach into butterfly knots.

When class ended, Bella quietly and calmly gathered her things. "It was nice meeting you, Rosalie," She said. Against all odds it seemed genuine, and Rosalie, who didn't believe in feeling bad about her actions, felt guilt hover at the back of her mind.

She swallowed. Apologies were foreign to Rosalie. She was as likely to say sorry as she was to recite _Le Petit Prince_ in its crisp original French. "You too."

Bella flashed her teeth: straight, of course, and perfect in ways teeth never had been before. Somehow Bella heard something close enough to an apology that she was smiling. _Does she have brain damage?_ Rosalie wondered, genuinely considering it.

Rosalie flexed her fingers. She wanted to smoke so bad her mouth watered thinking about it.

"I'll see you next time," Bella's eyes creased in her sincerity. She swooped out of the room. Rosalie imagined she was carried out on the wind, gliding, feet above the ground.

She was not sure what that was. But — yeah. Okay.

Onto calculus.

* * *

" _...that's nice of him. I'm glad you and your father are getting along. And the Clearwaters as well — always been wonderful company. How was school?"_

"Okay. Everyone is… enthusiastic."

Laila almost trilled with excitement. " _That's wonderful, Rose! Did you make any friends?"_

"Some. They interviewed me for the school newspaper."

" _Already so popular,"_ Laila laughed. Rosalie sighed like she was aggrieved — which she was — just not as bad as she was making it seemed. Her mother giggled some more. " _You just have that aura about you. People want to get close to you!"_

To a point, they did. Some people were desirable because they were mysterious. Others looked at Rosalie, curled blonde hair and carefully applied eyeshadow, and thought, _cliché_. They wanted to dig to see how far the façade went. Differentiate between the mask and the reality. Rosalie was a puzzle society thought it wanted to solve.

"I didn't really come here to be popular and join cliques. I'm going to focus on my studies, get my diploma, and leave."

" _Are you incapable of multitasking? There's room for friendship."_

"Not really."

" _Oh, I do hope you meet someone who changes your mind. You deserve companionship, Rose. Real friends who stick with you for life. Don't you think?"_

Even though it wasn't, Rosalie treated the question as rhetorical and left it unanswered. She checked to see how long the call had been going, clicking her tongue. "Mom, I have to go. I'm using too many minutes."

Laila couldn't hide her disappointment. " _Well, of course. Should I tell Hank you said hello?"_

"Go ahead."

" _He'll like that. Goodbye, Rose. Call me later, okay? I miss you. It is so quiet without you. The house feels too big."_

Rosalie was certain that was a lie. But it was nice. "Friday," She promised. "Bye, mom."

" _I love you!"_

"You too," Rosalie exhaled. Hanging up was more difficult than she thought it would be. After, she put her phone on charge and sifted through her notes. It was only her first day so there wasn't many, leaving Rosslie with restless hands. She stared at the wall for a long moment. Fluorescent pink was not inherently soothing to the eyes.

Frustrated, Rosalie changed into an old shirt and ripped jeans. Downstairs Nathan was watching basketball, two empty bottles of beer on the floor and one in his hands.

Rosalie paused. She didn't remember him being an alcoholic. "Dad?"

He looked at her blearily. His mouth opened, then shut. "Rough day," He said. Guilty about it. "Where you off to?"

"I'm going to work on the truck some more. We don't have the new parts or anything but… I can do something with it."

His eyebrows furrowed in quiet protest. "Put on a jacket first. It's cold in there."

"I'll just end up taking it off."

"Then take it off. But it's fall, Rose. Dress appropriately, please, otherwise you'll catch hypothermia."

Rosalie rolled her eyes, looked at the bottles, and grabbed an old sweater from the closet. Nathan nodded approvingly, turning back to the television. Rosalie watched the back of his head. He was still and loose, eyes half-lidded on the screen with barely enough attention to count as watching. How rough of a day was it again?

The truck could wait some seconds. "Dad."

Nathan jolted. "You're still — yes, Rose?"

"I met this girl today. Bella. She seems… strange."

"Isabella Cullen?"

Rosalie was surprised he knew of her by nickname. "Yes, that's the one. You've heard of her?"

Nathan looked at her, uncertain. After scrutinizing what he could from her face about her motives, he gruffly said, "I'm good friends with her father, Dr. Carlisle. They are a good family, Rose, don't let the neighborhood tell you otherwise. Never met someone kinder than the doc. Real good of him to take in those kids, I don't know many who would bother."

Take on those kids?

"Is Bella adopted?"

"Not Isabella. She and her fraternal twin brother — Edward — are Dr. Carlisle's biological kids. But the others, yes, he fosters them. Alice, Emmett, and, uhh, Jesper? Jasper?"

She imagined the male version of Isabella Cullen. Those two must have been unstoppable side-by-side. She wondered how Forks could treat Rosalie's beauty like this when Bella was right there. Bella and her undoubtedly attractive doppelganger. It didn't make sense.

"I didn't meet her siblings. Only her. She's my biology partner."

Nathan accepted this easily. "Well, be nice to her. If she's anything like her dad, girl doesn't have a bad bone in her."

Bad bones were the least of Rosalie's worries. Besides, she'd heard that one before. Clichés. You dug until you unearthed something real. Rosalie wondered if Bella had the same rotting secrets as Rosalie did or if she was exactly what she claimed to be.

She thought of blue lips and thought, _No fucking way._ Bella was hiding something.

"I'll keep it in mind," said Rosalie, leaving. As soon as she was in the garage, she took off her sweater and threw it to the side. It would only get in the way.


	3. Chapter 3

By any other name

[3]

* * *

First thing Wednesday was sports. Volleyball, it seemed, which was a game Rosalie hadn't played since sophomore year. She'd been passable as an outside hitter. Then she found baseball and was able to put her arms to proper use, and she'd dropped volleyball on the spot.

The game had not gotten any more difficult since last she checked. Rosalie played several sets on Jessica's side, captain of the school team and someone who truly new what she was doing. Most of the class couldn't say that.

When it was over and Rosalie was wiping her face with her towel, Jessica pranced over. Her ponytail swung hypnotically behind her. "Rosalie, what the hell? You _have_ to join the team!"

"I have to?" Rosalie crossed her arms. Jessica nodded frantically. "I was serious the other day — I'm not interested in any clubs."

Jessica pouted. "Why _not_? You could replace Jennifer and we could finally make it to nationals!"

Such a leap. Rosalie tossed her hair out of her face. Exertion had glued strands to her forehead and shaken locks from their tie. She dragged the band out, brushed her fingers through her hair, and gathered it up into a messy bun. "No," She said.

"Is that your favorite word?" Jessica huffed.

"No," Rosalie said, this time smiling. "Sorry, it isn't happening."

She pointed her finger in Rosalie's face. "Not yet!"

Not _ever_. Rosalie batted Jessica's hand away and walked with her out of the gymnasium. They split ways to go to their respective classes, Rosalie picking up the pace so she wouldn't be late.

There were more seats this time. And Bella Cullen ready by the window, chin cradled by her finely crafted fingers. Rosalie sat beside her without considering another option.

She turned to Rosalie and smiled. "Rosalie, it's nice to see you again."

"Uh huh." Rosalie replied. It was the only thing she could manage to… that. She enrolled two days ago and met Bella once. She could not have meant it. "How long have you been here?"

"Not long. I came from home economics."

She saw it in her mind: Bella in an apron, crouched in front of the oven, checking on her vanilla muffins. Even someone like her would flush in the heat. Rosalie shook the image out of her head but it clung. "That's quite the distance, you know."

"I'm quicker than I look," Bella winked. "You take P.E.?"

"The smell give it away, did it?"

"It's not bad," She hedged with an addicting lightness to her voice. "There's worse. Like dogs. Wet dogs."

Rosalie was not overly fond of dogs herself and readily agreed. "More of a cat person?"

"They have much better manners," Bella said, and her mouth quirked in private amusement. The class steadily began to fill with chattering students. Rosalie categorized the new bodies automatically, but dismissed them as harmless. She couldn't divert her attention from Bella long enough to properly assess anyone else.

They talked idly throughout the lesson. Bella and her family moved over from Denali, Alaska about one year ago for a change of pace. Her father picked one hell of a place for that — he might as well have stayed put for all the action Forks provided.

"From Arizona to Alaska to Forks. Where haven't you been?"

Bella tilted her head, admitting, "Spain. My family thinks it's too warm, so we haven't visited. I'd like to."

She asked about why Rosalie moved over — "I needed fresh faces," Rosalie said stiffly — and if she was enjoying it. Rosalie answered honestly, talking about how much she missed the activity of the city, her old team, the _sun._

"You liked it there," Bella noted curiously. "Except you wouldn't return. Why not?"

"I couldn't."

"Why?"

Rosalie imagined thumbing that straight nose into clay. She could try one thousand times and come no closer to capturing reality. "I miss the people but they're soulless. I can't go back to that."

Rosalie used to be like them. Selfish and rushed and so, so absorbed in herself that she wasn't watching the dark corners. It wasn't until her spirit had been shattered that she realized she had one.

Bella went quiet. She watched the rolling dark clouds outside the window thoughtfully. The mugginess spread across the sky infinitely, no breaks for the sun to show itself at all. Rosalie missed the warmth.

"I hope," Bella spoke lowly, "that Forks lives up to your expectations."

Forks could not be any worse than what she left behind. "It's managing just fine so far,"

Bella laughed breathily, like she was running at full speed before an arm caught her around the waist — the sound was punched out of her. "Pay attention to class," She turned away, "You are being awfully disruptive."

* * *

 _"Sweetie, there you are! Guys, this is my girl, Rosalie. I'm gonna marry her."_

 _"She's a looker, Royce."_

 _"You should see her without the layers. She's a masterpiece. Come on, sweetie, give us a little show. For my friends. Just some skin, please?"_

 _"You're too beautiful not to know. Why don't you prove it to us, huh? Dressing like that — you telling me you don't want people looking?"_

Rosalie woke silently.

Someone was shaking hard enough that the bed trembled. There were hands all over the body as well as a pit of bile bubbling in the stomach. She was still filthy. Dirty.

It took several minutes to get up. The shower went on and didn't turn off until the water went cold. Legs gave out when she stepped out of the stall so the only thing to do was lean against the tub and swallow down a persistent bout of nausea. She hadn't thrown up for weeks.

— _Sweetie, come 'ere —_

Rosalie threw herself over the toilet. She forced herself to put on clothes with numb fingers because she couldn't stand the nudity. After, she had no energy, and she sat in the quiet and came back to her body. It was hers. It was hers.

Rosalie sat dazed for hours or minutes or days. Her father knocked on the door eventually. "Rose?" He knocked harder. "Rose, how long have you been in there?"

Rosalie stared flatly at the door, not moving until Nathan sounded prepared to kick it down. She opened it. Nathan caught himself from knocking in time, his body deflating when he saw her there. Only to tense up all over again when he saw the state of her.

"Rose…" Nathan muttered. She could tell he wanted nothing more than to hug her. "You're blue. You need — come into the living room, I'll get you a blanket. Some hot chocolate. Sound good?"

Maybe. Now that he mentioned it, she was trembling. She muttered _yes_ and Nathan herded her to the couch. He wrapped her in two blankets and started on the cocoa. Rosalie went from hovering outside of her own body to being painfully present in it. She felt sick all over again, freezing, much like she wanted to punch something until her hand broke.

He finished on her drink and watched her sip at it. Satisfied, Nathan didn't hover. Laila must have warned him about the hovering. He changed into his work uniform.

"Are you going to school?" He asked. Rosalie shook her head. "I'll call the principal. It's your first absence since you enrolled, he will understand."

"Okay."

"Eat something, Rose. I'll be back around five."

She hummed to humor him. When she heard his car start up, Rosalie dragged herself upstairs to fetch her cigarettes. She smoked out the open window, stopping when her hands were steady again.

Recovery wasn't linear. Rosalie grabbed her music player and disappeared into the garage. If nothing else she could kick the bonnet until she felt better.

* * *

Forks, Rosalie was convinced, was stuck in a time-loop.

It was her only explanation for why everything happened the same way every day. The people of this town clutched at routine with two hands. Rosalie was bored to death. New York was a different dimension entirely.

Leah laughed when she told her this. She was sitting on her skateboard, dressed in jean shorts and her hideously worn henley, a perfectly warm tartan shirt tied around her waist. Damn space heater. "It's a slow town. We move at our own pace."

"Any slower and you'd be going backwards," Rosalie bit. She poked out her arm, twinkling her fingers. "Can I have a wrench?"

"Which one? You have, like, ten."

 _Way more than ten,_ Rosalie thought, keeping that one to herself. "Combination. Nice, thanks." She scooted back under the truck. She often felt like she was poking at miscellaneous pieces of metal until something fell out. Sometimes, though, she knew what the broken miscellaneous part was called even if she didn't know how to put it back. Harry's lessons were working.

"You just have to hit your stride," Leah advised.

"Exactly what stride am I hitting?"

"You could try relaxing," The Clearwater laughed before she finished. "Right after you surgically remove the pole from your ass. Is it that bad here?"

"Beyond the telling," Rosalie said.

"Enough to miss New York?"

"No. Can't I miss unpredictability?"

"Try lowering your standards. Sometimes it doesn't rain, it just thunders a bit in the distance."

"Oh, I am spoiled for options, aren't I."

Leah kicked the grate to scare Rosalie out from under the truck. Her face was perfectly blank, which looked mildly threatening on her without much effort. "You got that right, princess. You want excitement that bad? Come to dinner with me."

Rosalie was cleaning the grease from her hands when that sentence processed. She hesitated, peeking up at Leah from under her lashes. "I am not gay."

At once, Leah's face went from waiting to annoyed. She eyed the distance between her foot and Rosalie's face thoughtfully, so Rosalie stood up to avoid a broken nose. "You're an idiot. I'm straight."

When that seemed to be it, Rosalie mockingly simpered, "Cool."

"Yeah, sure is. Neither of us are gay. Glad we cleared that up." Leah hesitated, then punched Rosalie's shoulder anyway. Rosalie hit her back within the same breath. "Chief is having a barbecue, colonizers reluctantly invited."

Rosalie groaned, "Please stop calling me that."

"You can't help that you are what you are," Leah said unsympathetically. "Anyway, you should be my plus one."

"Am I allowed to say no?"

"Free country, white girl."

"I'm saying no," Rosalie decided. She threw the dirty rag in Leah's face. It was swatted away irritably. "You know I don't do parties."

"You don't do socializing. It's probably why you're bored all the time, genius. Hey, pop quiz. Name three people that you know in Forks. _And_ their last names."

Rosalie was truly at a lost.

Seeing the battle on her face, Leah reached out to pat Rosalie's shoulder. She didn't protest when her wrist was caught before any contact could be made. "It's an open invitation. Two weeks 'til the date. Think about it?"

The knee-jerk reaction was to reject her. Rosalie gently coached herself past it. "I'll think about it," She said. Leah exhaled forcefully, very relieved. "Are you gonna let me get back to Claudine?"

"It is very weird that you call her that."

"It's her _name,_ " Rosalie sneered, ignoring Leah's muttered profanity.

* * *

It was Rosalie's one month anniversary since moving in with her dad. She celebrated by smoking behind the bleachers at school.

Following recess under the scrutiny of her friends (if that — acquaintances might have suited the relationship better), it was time for biology, which was quickly becoming Rosalie's favorite class. Bella was already there wearing a loose green sweater and slouchy jeans. She didn't know if Bella was first in, but she always arrived before Rosalie. The blonde secretly considered lining up before the bell went just to beat her classmate. The whole second place thing was triggering all kinds of competitive instincts.

Rosalie threw her bag until her seat. "Hey," She barely managed before Bella snapped: "You _smoke_?"

She sounded _outrageously_ offended.

"Are you asthmatic?"

"There are scientific studies to prove that tobacco will kill you."

"They _suggest_ it, there is no way of proving something like that," Rosalie said defensively. Bella was, for some reason, upset about the cigarette smell clinging to her scarf.

Make no mistake: it was annoying as hell, yet worse than that was how anger lended Bella's face the type of animation it normally didn't have, that it impossibly added to her beauty, that Rosalie was _noticing this in the first place._

"It's… I don't understand how you could enjoy it."

"I live a stressed lifestyle. It calms me down. I don't see how it is any of your business."

"I'm… you're… I was only expressing my concern." Bella's lips thinned as she turned away. Her hands — splayed on the table — tightened into fists.

Rosalie sarcastically clapped her shoulder. Bella was rock solid, so much that it felt like smacking a block of stone. She jumped. Rosalie was already back on her end of the table, trying to put this odd incident out of mind.

"I'm not your responsibility, jackass. Focus on your own problems." After that scene, she undoubtedly had a multitude to sort through. "Now. Do you know what we're doing today?"

A slight pause.

"Mr. Molina wheeled out the microscopes. I believe we're looking at cells." Bella glanced to the side. She hunched in on herself. For the first time, it occurred to Rosalie that Bella Cullen was as human as she was, including the flaws. However annoyed she was, Rosalie could acknowledge that much.

Rosalie lifted her chin imperiously. "Don't slack, Cullen. I'm not carrying this team by myself."

"Heaven forbid," Bella heaved a great sigh. Her shoulders were looser. Biology continued without another incident. Despite the amiability, Rosalie found it hard to put the argument from her mind. Where had it come from?

* * *

Come lunch, Rosalie was too curious.

Her eyes sought after Bella in the cafeteria. She was sitting with her family. Rosalie didn't normally pay her siblings much, if any, attention. She tried it out this one time.

On Bella's right was the largest teenager in Forks and possibly the entire world. His arm was draped over the back of her seat, and his straight teeth sparkled while he grinned. There was something classically handsome about him, about _all_ of them. Rosalie had a bad taste in her mouth. Were all of them this attractive?

Jessica inhaled sharply, either scandalized or choking on her lettuce. "Oh my god. Oh my god! Call the press, you guys! Has Emmett McCarty perhaps melted your frozen heart? Are you _gazing_?"

Rosalie decided to give her one free pass on account of her need to know more. "McCarty?"

"Foster child, did you know? He doesn't have the same surname as Edward. I can't believe the day has finally come. You're asking about the Cullens!"

"You can't collectively refer to them by the last name only two have," Angela flicked lettuce at Jessica's head in reproach.

"The Brandon-Cullen-McCarty-Whitlock family doesn't flow," Eric stroked his chin.

Mike grinned cheekily, saying, "You have a point. They can be 'them'."

"But that isn't any better!"

" _They,_ " Jessica sung teasingly, "are the most exclusive group in school. The pixie girl, she's Alice Brandon. Total freak, I have never seen her come close to a negative emotion. Girl has bulletproof happiness."

Rosalie saw the aforementioned female: she was smaller than the rest, skin bleached white, white, white. Like Jessica said she was smiling. Even across the room one could clearly imagine the sound of her. Church bells, maybe. Singing birds.

 _Nails on chalkboard,_ Rosalie considered wryly.

"She's dating Jasper Whitlock, another foster child of Dr. Cullen. Weird, right? I mean, they _live_ together. Aren't they practically siblings?"

"They aren't related, Jess."

Jessica poked her salad unconvinced. She chewed obnoxiously on a cherry tomato and said, "It's plain weird and barely legal. Anyway, Jasper always looks like he's in pain. Not the obvious choice for Miss Optimism but each to their own. The hunk..."

"Emmett's an idiot." Mike blurted. He immediately looked guilty about it. "Not — you'd look at him and think _total jock,_ right? Nope. He's terrible at sport. I saw him trip over his own two feet once. He's in my math class. I've never heard him answer questions... I think he might be a little dyslexic, actually."

"Because he's quiet in class? Come on, Mike."

He shrugged loosely, refusing the blame.

"If you're in the same math class as him and he's an alleged dumbass, what does that say about you?" Rosalie asked, batting her eyes innocently. Eric exploded into laughter.

Meanwhile, Jessica was eager to turn them back to the matter at hand. "There's Edward Cullen, or _the hair_ as I call him. He's, um, gorgeous as you can tell. Him and Emmett are both single but neither of them date us lesser beings."

"Like you, they're above fleeting teenage romance," Mike added, grinning at Rosalie, who tilted her head at him. "Bella, though—"

" _I_ _sabella_!" Jessica groaned furiously, throwing herself back in her seat. Eric and Angela shared exhausted looks. "Edward's fraternal twin… please! I'm not convinced! Have you seen her style? It's hideous."

Rosalie glanced fleetingly back at the table. Alice was outfitted in fashionable jeans that complimented her thin figure paired with an expensive shirt that Rosalie's mom would just _love,_ automatically marking it as couture.

Bella was wearing her baggy green sweater and washed out denim jeans. Her hair was tied low against the back of her neck, and the only jewelry she wore was a simple gold band on her right pinky finger.

She was the _before_ picture to Alice's _after_. Ugly, yet oddly endearing. Similar to the kinship one would feel with a one-eyed stray cat one sometimes fed.

"Don't bother."

It was Jessica, voice stern.

She snapped her fingers in front of Rosalie's face to keep her attention away from the Cullens. "They don't consider us on the same level as them. It's like flirting with a brick wall."

Flirting wasn't on the agenda, not that anyone believed her.

"Noted."

The conversation turned onto prom. Rosalie extracted herself from it by saying that she wasn't going. In elementary she couldn't imagine any night more magical than prom. Times changed.

She wasn't conscious of her continued staring until she found it returned.

Bella Cullen looked up from her untouched lunch tray. It could have been the lights, but in that moment her eyes glowed like gold. She didn't look away and neither did Rosalie. It didn't seem pressing, not when Bella sat there, slouching, back bent like a question mark.

 _You,_ Rosalie thought, her stomach twisting, _are the answer to a riddle I didn't ask._

Didn't, wouldn't, won't. Bella was not her problem. She was a distraction.

Edward Cullen ducked in close, murmuring in Bella's ear. She snapped her eyes down at the table. They engaged themselves in lowly-spoken conversation, and suddenly Rosalie was free from... distraction, problem, arresting fascination.

Rosalie carded her fingers through her hair. No doubt about it. There was something was wrong with her.


End file.
